


The Toll

by thinkatory



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/F, Just mild xeno though, Knifeplay, Mildly Dubious Consent, Nonnies Made Me Do It, Public Sex, Ritual Public Sex, Xeno
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-18
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2020-01-16 02:47:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18512338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thinkatory/pseuds/thinkatory
Summary: "Always tying me up," the Doctor says breezily. "People will get ideas.""Mm, I think they will." With a gesture of great ceremony, Missy draws a knife from her belt to the tune of a happy sigh from the crowd, and she presses the flat of the blade to the Doctor's face. "Welcome to Garaxis Twelve, where outsiders who come uninvited must pay their toll in blood."





	The Toll

**Author's Note:**

> Just a short thing to try out these voices.

"Solo trips are always a mistake," the Doctor says, cheerful through her panic, and settles back on the ceremonial slab she's shackled to. She glances to the crowd gathering to her right. "No one friendly to talk to, no one to look clever for, what's the point, really? Don't you think?" she directs to the guard.

He expression remains stony. The Doctor grimaces. "Oh come on, give me something! Anything. I've been here for, what, an hour?"

"The Lady will come and honor Him with your flesh," the guard says, his tone stiff as his posture.

"Well that's something! That doesn't really clear it up, but at least I know -- flesh. Hrm." She frowns. "Let's not do that. No."

The guard eyes her. "You have no choice. You will pay the toll of blood."

"Oh will I?" the Doctor says, brightly manic. "Paying the toll of, ah, blood, sounds very bureaucratic. Why not, let's get it over with, hey?"

The ornate double door behind the guard opens, and the crowd bursts into inspired applause; the Doctor just stares.

As usual, Missy is beautiful and terrible, with the best-worst timing anyone can imagine. She sweeps over to the Doctor and smiles something truly wicked.

"What a pretty regeneration," Missy says, her tone oozing with self-satisfaction. "Oh, I like it. I like it very, very much."

"Always tying me up," the Doctor says breezily. "People will get ideas."

"Mm, I think they will." With a gesture of great ceremony, Missy draws a knife from her belt to the tune of a happy sigh from the crowd, and she presses the flat of the blade to the Doctor's face. "Welcome to Garaxis Twelve, where outsiders who come uninvited must pay their toll in blood."

The Doctor stares into Missy's face, a faint smile on her lips. "Now, did they do this before or after you stopped in and ingratiated yourself?"

"You know, you must encourage small minds," Missy says airily.

"Oh, so you do." The Doctor pulls against her bonds. "Go on then."

Missy turns the knife to gently run the blade across her cheek and down her throat. "So eager?"

"Dare you." The Doctor knows the time will come for her to get out, but it's not always the most convenient time.

Something awful flashes in Missy's eyes, and she cuts through the Doctor's shirt, baring her skin. "Oi," the Doctor complains, but Missy doesn't seem to care at all. She draws a hand up the Doctor's side and presses the Doctor's neck firmly back against the slab before the knife bites into her skin along her stomach.

"Oh," MIssy breathes. "Oh, how beautiful."

The crowd whistles and hums, the Doctor now hyper-aware of their gaze, and Missy cuts into her again, further up her stomach; she sways as she goes, as though dancing to a song only she can hear.

The Doctor's hearts are in her throat. "You have your blood. Take it."

"Not nearly enough, my dear Doctor," Missy murmurs, and cuts into her collarbone, pressing kisses to her cheek and down her neck. "Oh, not hardly."

The Doctor's barely had this body for a year; she's not about to regenerate just because Missy wanted to do murder as foreplay. "Let me out," she says urgently. "Let me out and we can talk about this."

"Oh, are you frightened?" Another cut along the curve of the Doctor's breast. "Don't be, my darling... don't you remember?"

It feels like the Doctor's whole body is alive, on fire, vivid, all that energy gathering around the cuts, and she can't bear to admit to herself that it's started curling arousal just below the low cuts on her stomach. "Remember what?" she manages.

"Playing on my father's land as boys," Missy says, tone light as she pauses to taste the blood off of the knife. "Fumbling off our clothes in the tall grass, my knife along your thigh… oh, how you did blush." She glances to the crowd. "More?"

The crowd screams and whistles approval. The Doctor stares at Missy, bereft. "Promise me you won't kill me," she says.

"What would my promise be worth?" Missy smiles, an knife's edge to it.

"I know I got through to you," the Doctor presses before. "I know that you were starting to understand -- "

"Enough," Missy says swiftly. "The good people want more, my dear, and I must give it to them. She undoes the Doctor's trousers and pulls down the lot of it. The Doctor isn't ready for this, definitely not ready to die nearly naked, but Missy drops to a knee and presses the knife into her thigh. "I will make you mine in front of all these people," she murmurs. "What do you think of that, Doctor?"

"Yours," the Doctor answers, a sharpness to her otherwise weak tone, "when you act like this?"

"Let's not pretend," Missy says softly, "that you weren't always mine."

The knife cuts into her thigh and the Doctor trembles; Missy strokes her genitals and it's the first time anyone's ever done anything like that in this body. She writhes a little before Missy's fingers press inside her and Missy's mouth presses against the sensitive flesh there, her tongue soft and warm and persistent against the nubs along her opening.

"Oh, oh wow," the Doctor breathes, and Missy cuts into her other thigh, not half as deeply as her fingers delve inside of the Doctor. "Oh no, oh no," bursts out of her mouth, and she grips her bonds, desperate to keep her head straight in the midst of all this. "Missy, please -- "

"Beg me," Missy murmurs, her mouth wet with the Doctor's juices already. "In front of all these people, beg me."

A shiver cuts through the Doctor. "Do what you need to do," she says firmly as she can.

"You will beg me," Missy says; her eyes are mad, with lust, maybe, for blood and pleasure. She descends on the Doctor again with her mouth and her fingers harshly pressed between her legs, until a moan breaks through the Doctor's restraint and Missy buries her knife over and over between her thighs, hard at work until the Doctor breaks.

"Oh no," she breathes, and her juices flood over Missy's fingers, her body so wonderfully tense and overwhelmed; she only barely becomes aware of the crowd roaring, and her face goes pink. Missy draws back just barely, on her feet, and tastes the juices, immediately moving sharply to the Doctor to press her throat against the slab and bury her soaked fingers in the Doctor's mouth.

"You have paid your toll," Missy murmurs, barely audible over the crowd. "More than enough."

The Doctor pulls in a breath, and tries to be stable, normal, in spite of it all. "Am I free to go?"

"I thought we might have tea," Missy says, all conversational as she yanks the Doctor's trousers up. "Would you join me?"

"You're insane," the Doctor says, but in spite of it all, her hearts know the truth. No matter what Missy does… she has to try. "Tea," she says, and rubs her wrists as her bonds are undone. "No poison."

"No promises," Missy sing-songs. "Let's get you something to wear. It can't be worse than what you came here in."

"Oi," the Doctor warns. "I assume you'll fix up the -- " Is she embarrassed? Ugh. She just gestures at the cuts.

"Right quick," Missy says easily. "We're not trying to bleed you out, just enjoy the process."

"Right." The Doctor is unsteady on her feet. "Well, let's get to it."

Missy smirks, and sweeps the Doctor away.


End file.
